Why Did You Let Go?
by Neopol
Summary: Rifts are forming between the three, even more so than before. Aoba's dreams of escape are bubbling to the surface; Virus is desperately chasing after Trip's affection, and Trip is planning a new future for Morphine. Will Aoba survive the life the two have built for her? Will Trip and Virus survive the life they've built for themselves? Fate will decide.
1. Because It's Interesting

"That was fun, wasn't it Trip?"

"Indeed it was," Trip chuckled. Experimenting on Aoba with some new toys of theirs had been a joy. The price tag on the damn things warranted the results. If they hadn't, well, the mood in the room would be very different. Gazing down at their sleeping beauty, Virus softly tucked some of the mangled blue hair behind Aoba's ear, sighing gently. "Amazing what technology can do nowadays. I'm surprised she lasted as long as she did," Virus crooned. Trip simply nodded in agreement. Aoba's stamina was improving. In the early days, she could only go for an hour or so. With their training, she could last for a few hours at least. The blonde duo was delighted with their handiwork; all they could do for the time being was admire it.

Trip pushed herself off the bed, lazily walking towards the door. "I'm off to make dinner. Anything in particular you want?" she yawned. Virus crooked an eyebrow.

"You? Cooking?"

Trip smirked and nodded.

"Lamb would be good. Would go nicely with that bottle of Merlot I bought yesterday." Trip could only smile and shake her head. She wasn't surprised that Virus was picking her food according to her wine. She always did. If there was one thing she knew about Virus, it was that she was a consistent woman.

With that, Trip made her way to the kitchen. She ambled down a tiled hallway until she reached the set of tall glass doors on the left. Grabbing the handles and gently pushing the doors open, she couldn't help but respect Virus' interior design. Their opulent kitchen was blindingly white and was only kept in that state because Virus insisted on cleaning it. If Trip had her way, the whole place would be a sugary mess. The bottles on the pristine marble counter were a constant reminder of Virus' wine obsession. It was ridiculous. The woman could have wine with anything: cereal, pastry, lasagne. Nothing was sacred.

Drowsy eyes looked around the room, falling lovingly on the bouquet of ruby red tulips sitting on the table. It had been her gift to Aoba for their first Valentine's Day together. Virus had bought the ornate glass vase while Trip bought the actual tulips.

Heading towards the fridge, she scanned it's somewhat meagre contents. She'd have to remind Virus to go grocery shopping. Finding a chunk of lamb rib in the bottom most drawer, she yanked it out. The meat had been wrapped in far too many layers of plastic. She'd probably end up stabbing the packaging repeatedly. It was the easiest method of opening stuff up. She could hear Virus' voice in the other room. Aoba had probably woken up.

* * *

She felt disgusting. A thin film of sweat still clung to her and satin sheets stuck to her limbs. Sticky eyelids refused to open. Until she felt that face staring at her. No matter how many times she saw it, it would terrify her. Unfeeling eyes would roam over her body. Painted lips would kiss her mouth and leave their scent scattered all over. Perfectly plucked eyebrows would rise in happiness as she watched her pretend to enjoy their touch. Realization flooded over her, and her eyes shot open. Virus stopped her from bolting upright. Delicate fingers pushed her shoulders down and into the mattress. "Why does Aoba-san look so scared? You had a great time this afternoon. You came, what was it, eight times? Bravo Aoba, bravo." Sickly sweet praise dripped from Virus' lips, and it made Aoba retch. The monstrous duo's new toys had left her numb yet hypersensitive, drowning in all sorts of strange sensations that were neither painful nor pleasant. A horrible limbo. She needed a shower. And she needed it now.

"Virus?"

"Yes, Aoba-san?"

"Can I shower?"

Her request came out like a meek whimper. She hated asking them for things. She was _scared _of asking them for things. It made her feel like she was a dog, looking at its owner before jumping on the couch. "Of course you can, Aoba-san." Her voice pierced through Aoba's ears. Tracing a line down her jaw, Virus told Aoba that she loved her and that she should be down for dinner soon. Placing a kiss on the girl's nose, the bespectacled blonde disappeared into the corridor. _Probably off to smother herself in that gross raspberry-scented soap_, Aoba mused.

Virus' aroma seemed to settle in any area she entered. Her presence seemed to linger wherever she went. Peeling the layers of bedding off her body and brushing the hair out of her face, she limped to the en-suite bathroom, heavy feet dragging themselves across the laminate floor. Hersha stood guard. A shudder ran down her back as the biting cold of the black bathroom tiles met the nerves in her feet. Shoving the shower door open and wrenching the cold tap anticlockwise, an icy torrent poured onto her. And it was the most wonderful thing she'd felt that miserable day.

* * *

She could never understand why Aoba always looked scared when waking up in her presence. Maybe it was the glasses. Trip was far scarier and probably ten times more muscular than she was. Aoba was so strange sometimes. But that's made her so interesting. So fun. So damn lovable, too. It was hilarious how Aoba's face dropped when she showed her the toys they were to use that day. She would have giggled, but that would have ruined the moment of seriousness they had been building up.

She'd walked into the living room. Trip was sitting on the couch, Aoba on her lap. Her white heels clicked on the floor. A deep navy blue dress shone in the artificial light. A large black case was in her right hand. She sat down on the couch opposite the two, placing the case on her lap. Trip grinned a devilish grin, and that frightened Aoba to no end. Opening the case with such dramatic slowness everyone in the room could cringe, she turned the now-opened case towards Aoba. Ordering her to look at what they were to use that afternoon, Aoba's fearful face stared at the case. Horror washed over the girl. Virus could barely hide her glee. They'd let her pick what she wanted to use first, then second, then third, and so forth. "Pick your poison, Aoba-san," she'd said. The fact that Aoba got to choose probably made it better. That afternoon had been fantastic. Trip had asked her how much the toys had cost (when they'd finished testing them out), and almost fainted at the answer.

Virus had expensive taste, and her newest beauties were no exception. Trip didn't approve of her lavish spending, but it's not like they were short on money. Being the girlfriend of a yakuza leader had its benefits. Although she did hope "girlfriend" would soon change to "fiancé". Why not spend money when you have it? To her, anyone who said they didn't want to be rich was either a liar or six feet underground. Their renovated kitchen was a good few thousand pounds, and the silk sheets of her bed were another couple of hundred. She made sure all five bedrooms had been equipped with en-suite bathrooms and walk-in closets. The double-doors to the kitchen had cost a pretty penny too. Money couldn't guarantee quality, but she didn't care. If it was expensive, she'd love it twice as much.


	2. Because It's Traditional

Trip and Virus were really old-fashioned sometimes. They would wear different outfits for breakfast, the day, and dinner, before getting changed into their pyjamas. Trip would never be caught wearing a skirt while Virus adamantly stated that "she would wear trousers the day that she became so lacking in class that she would have to do any kind of work requiring them". Aoba was to be seen and not heard, unless they were having sex. Aoba wasn't to speak unless spoken to, except if she had a question or decent request. No pets on the furniture unless invited, pets own beds not included. By "pets", they meant Aoba and the AllMates. They caned her for misbehaviour. Like that time she sat on the living room couch without permission. It was her first week in captivity. She couldn't sit on anything for three days after. It didn't take long for the fire of defiance to die out.

Stepping out of the shower and drying herself off, she dropped the drenched towel over Hersha, who was diligently standing by the bathroom door. It was the one thing she could do to annoy the AllMate and not get in trouble for. After all, Hersha was the clumsier and slightly more unintelligent of the two AllMates. It was odd, with the snake being Virus'.

Looking for a dinner outfit was next. She needed a somewhat formal dress, but nothing that would look too impressive. It was just dinner, after all. Raking through the expansive walk-in closet, she settled on a knee-length black dress with long sheer sleeves. She stepped into the dress before trying, in vain, to do up the silver zipper.

The blondes had bought all the clothes she now owned. They'd burnt all her old ones. They said that it would make her feel nostalgic about the past, and that she only needed to think about them now. They said that the past didn't matter. They said that it was all over, and they were the only things that mattered now. She zoned out, consumed by her own thoughts.

A chill fell over the room. She poked her head round the closet curtain and saw Virus standing by her bed. _Ghastly woman_, she thought. She could manage to enter any premises and you wouldn't hear her. Ever. Except on the rare occasions that she'd go out to the Morphine headquarters, wearing small heels and a tiny pencil skirt. Heels made very distinct sounds on tile. It was helpful sometimes. She could tell who was coming through the front door much faster.

Since she was here, Virus was probably going to decide her dinner outfit. Virus really liked dressing her up, like how a small child would put clothes on their favourite doll. Sauntering over in her silky black jumpsuit, Virus cast her a disapproving look.

"Now now, what on Earth made you think that was a good thing to wear to dinner, Aoba? Let's find you something decent."

* * *

While she could make the best cakes in all of Midorjima, Trip was not a good cook. Normally it would be left to Virus to have something ready to eat when she got back from work, but today she wanted to impress. She had an announcement to make. She checked the vegetables in the steamer and the lamb in the oven before going to her own room to change. Her room was the second door on the left, after the master bathroom.

Entering the walk-in closet, she pulled out a pair of white loafers, some white trousers, and an ironed white button-down. Fixing up her most prized plaid waistcoat, she admired herself in the mirror for a quick moment. She was very pleased with what she saw. Getting dressed was an easy affair for Trip. She didn't own nearly as many clothes as Virus, and Aoba was Virus' living mannequin half of the time. A fair amount of the clothes she owned were gifts from Virus anyway. Trip didn't see the point. She did have a soft spot for tailored suits and wingtipped Oxfords though. Now those were the way to her heart, along with vanilla cake.

Wandering back to the kitchen, she congratulated herself on her first attempt at cooking something that hadn't been found on the internet. Nothing was burning and the whole room was enveloped in a very pleasant smell. Virus was bound to like this.

* * *

While she did love Aoba, her taste was abominable sometimes. A knee-length cocktail dress? _Sheer_ sleeves? What on Earth was she thinking? _Well, it was fashionable at the time I bought it_, Virus consoled herself. She'd helped Aoba out and found a nice blue silk dress that reached mid-thigh. It was a personal favourite of hers. It really brought out Aoba's lovely brown eyes. She was at a loss when it came to which shoes to pair it with however.

"Aoba, what kind of shoes would you like to wear with this?" Bowing her head, Aoba began deliberating what answer she should give.

"Anything you want me to wear, Virus," she squeaked. There was no way her voice was meant to come out that high. Virus rubbed her temples. Aoba was not making her job any easier today. If Trip saw Virus dressing up their pet like some cheap slut from down the Old Resident district she'd never hear the end of it. Aoba was their lover, not their slave for goodness sakes. She said such silly things sometimes. It was cute though. At least she thought so. If Trip was here, Aoba probably would've gotten a hard slap for supposedly sassing them.

She knelt down to the shoe rack, trailing her fingers along the multitude of designer footwear she'd bought Aoba. Settling on some white ballet flats, she stood up and handed them to the blue-haired girl. "I like these. Put them on." Slipping them on, Aoba's eyes never left the floor.

"Look at me," Virus ordered. Aoba's twitching eyes slowly met hers.

"Be down for dinner in five minutes, okay?" Virus cooed as she grabbed the girl's chin. Giving Aoba a soft kiss, she began to walk towards the door when she heard a sharp hissing sound. Turning around, she noticed a very wet Hersha slipping and sliding towards her, and looking rather angry. A sopping wet towel was by the bathroom door.

"Hersha, did the towel fall on you? You little muppet!" she playfully scolded. A smile tugged at Aoba's lips.


	3. Because It's Fun

"Smells great."

Smooth hands wrapped themselves around Trip's waist. The scent of raspberry wafted from the form behind her. Trip chuckled softly. Excitement was building within her. She couldn't wait to make her announcement. But alas, her anticipation had to be concealed. She had to build up an ambience. Turning to face Virus, she felt a small peck on her lips. Virus' hands were trailing up and down her stomach.

"Virus, not now."

She suddenly felt a lot colder. Virus' hands removed themselves from her body. Walking over to an empty counter, she saw the blonde perch herself on the marble. Eyes downcast, Trip knew something was wrong.

"Virus, what's wrong?" She hated seeing Virus upset. Aoba was sad most of the time so it didn't bother her that much anymore. Leaving the steaming vegetables, she walked over to Virus, placing her hands the frail shoulders. Leaking blue eyes lifted slowly, meeting Trip's. "It's Aoba."

Trip growled. She forcefully took her hands off Virus' shoulders and stood by the cooker, glaring at the floor. Aoba was being so difficult lately. Doesn't want this, doesn't like that, stop this, don't do that. _I hate you_, she'd said. Ungrateful brat. And here she was, upsetting Virus. "What did she do now, love?"

Virus slipped off the counter and started pacing. Arms crossed over her chest, she sighed deeply. "Well, she didn't technically do anything. It's just…" She rubbed her right temple, left arm still over her chest. "I don't know how we can make her happy, you know? I ask her what shoes she wants to wear and she just says that I should pick something for her! Like she's some kind of pet. I buy her all these clothes and shoes and jewellery, but it's never enough…"

There was the sound of water on tile. Trip looked up. Tears were dripping down Virus' cheeks. She'd pulled her palms over her eyes, as if she was ashamed. Rushing over and giving her a tight hug, large hands wove through a short cluster of perfectly brushed blonde hair. She made shushing sounds to try and soothe her. "Hey, hey don't be sad now. We can deal with her later, okay?" Taking Virus' chin between her hands, she wiped away the tears with her thumbs. Capturing Virus' mouth with a kiss was just the remedy she needed.

* * *

Aoba slowly made her way to the kitchen in a daze. She weakly grabbed one door handle and began to push the door open, before stopping. She could hear someone sobbing. Stealthily looking through the glass, she saw Virus' head buried in Trip's neck, with Trip making shushing sounds the same way one would with a crying baby.

Aoba crept back to her room, eager to leave as soon as possible. Her feet moved silently across the tile. She guessed dinner would be postponed for a while.

* * *

_At least after today's ordeal I won't have to make dinner_, Virus mused. She'd calmed down after a solid ten minutes of weeping, and Trip seemed less angry than before.

"Hey, did you hear something?" Trip was looking through the kitchen doors.

"No, did you?"

"I think I heard footsteps."

Virus' eyes widened. What if they had been found? What if one of the rival gangs had identified their location? What if they were here to take their little bluebird? Panic began to invade her body again. They could call reinforcements, but the Morphine base was too far away for them to get here in time. Trip could fight them off, but what if there were too many? What if—

"Virus? Virus, love, are you alright?"

"Have they found us?" Trip's brows furrowed. "Don't look at me like that! We could have Ruff Rabbit… or… or… Scratch, or someone else right in our apartment and you'd just be staring at me like an invalid! They could kill me! Or you, or bluebird! Trip! Quit staring and do something you—"

A loud cracking sound emanated through the room, and Virus' head did a ninety-degree turn. Her left cheek burnt and her lip stung. She put a hand to her face, thankful that her extremities were almost permanently cold. The icy touch soothed her, and gave her a miniscule shield against Trip.

She'd fucked up. She just called her girlfriend an invalid. She had just insulted Trip's ability to protect her and Aoba. She was a fool. Glancing at the couch, she stumbled over and curled up, knees to her chest. Trip hadn't moved.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that ever again."

The younger blonde's gaze phased through any and all barriers. Salty tears began to trickle down her face and onto the couch. They were leaving tiny little watermarks by her face. Her hands hadn't left her cheek. Trip was now standing directly in front of her. Her hands were still frozen in fists.

"I'm sorry Trip, I'm so sorry, I…" Her voice trailed off, broken by bouts of tears. A huge hand took her by the throat and hoisted her up. Feet off the floor, Virus tried to free herself. She kicked and she flailed but nothing seemed to loosen Trip's grip. Eventually, Trip just dropped her on the tile. It could always be worse. She knew from experience. She deserved it anyway.

* * *

The crying seemed incessant. What on Earth were they doing in there? Was it all Virus crying? Did Trip even have the emotional capacity to shed tears? She would probably never know. But it was all quiet now. Thankfully. Sitting on her bed with only the sound of someone's sobbing in the distance was incredibly irritating. It's not like she had much to do in her room anyway. Some Virus and Trip approved magazines were on a glass coffee table, which sat under a wide television with some Virus and Trip approved channels, and there was a small case of Virus and Trip approved sex toys under her bed. Hersha and Welter wandered in occasionally, but they were mute and boring. They were, in essence, walking décor that made hissing and growling noises.

The bedroom door creaked open. Aoba looked up to see Trip standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

"I've ordered a take out. Get into the kitchen."

Well shit. This evening was going to be long and miserable.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing one would notice upon entering the kitchen was an overwhelming sensation of order and cleanliness. Nothing seemed out of place, ever. No counter was unclean and no silverware unpolished. However, today was different. The couch was home to a huddled and shaking figure. The smell of charcoal clouded the air. A dirty chopping board was drenched in blood while simultaneously crushed under a mountain of knives.

Trip had dragged Aoba down by the ear when it was decided that she had taken too long to get out of bed. Aoba had been thrown to the counter, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Pushing herself off the marble, she stood small with her chin down.

The phone wasn't back in its stand. Aoba assumed that Trip's takeout order would be here soon. If Trip was still angry, Virus and she probably wouldn't be eating tonight.

"Virus, get the hell up and sit on a chair!" Trip barked. Aoba flinched. Virus jumped from her fetal position and scurried over. Trembling hands grasped for the back of the shining silver dining chair. She missed the first few times before eventually finding it. Aoba studied her face: her mascara was running in thick black streams down her cheeks; the nail on her right thumb was broken; hairspray had frozen her normally flawless locks into something akin to bedhead; she wasn't wearing her glasses. She was, in short, a mess. There was a small puddle near the stove. _Can only imagine what that is_, Aoba cringed.

* * *

God, Virus was so fucking stupid. Today was meant to be a great day! She was gonna tell everyone about the Morphine expansion. Hell, she was even going to have cooked food! And that was Virus' job! But no, her girlfriend's paranoia had made her lose her temper and now it was all ruined. Ruined, ruined, ruined!

It was all _her_ fault. If that blue-haired brat hadn't upset Virus, none of this would have gone down. Virus would've been happy and everything would've been fine. But no… Aoba wouldn't let any of them be happy. And here she was, having the nerve to pretend like _she's_ the victim!

"Aoba, I want you to know that all of this is your fault. All of it." Trip couldn't even look her in the eye. She was that angry.

Aoba's eyebrows furrowed and her eyes squinted as if confused. She'd have to spell it out to the girl.

* * *

Was she really that paranoid? Maybe it was all in her head. She hadn't been quite right after Trip's affair with that cute intern. Or the client that always seemed too affectionate. Or the secretary back at the house. Maybe that's why Trip didn't like her that much. Because she was a bad fiancé—no, girlfriend. She didn't wear sexy lingerie to bed like the intern. She didn't compliment Trip lots, like the client did. She didn't look perfect all the time, like that secretary. She was a stupid, jealous woman. A stupid, jealous woman eager for _someone, anyone _to love her. Even Aoba hated her. She knew that it wasn't great keeping her locked up in the apartment, but it was what Trip wanted. Hell, she even felt _bad _about keeping her inside all the time. Why couldn't Aoba see that?

She wasn't expecting any food to enter her stomach tonight. Not after her little outburst. Fingers crossed Trip would've calmed down by breakfast.

* * *

How the hell was this her fault? She hadn't even entered the fucking room! Virus was an emotional trainwreck; _that_ was common knowledge. It was no surprise she was crying. She'd being crying more and more lately, but she couldn't care less. Plus, Trip wasn't the tender type. How they'd been together so long, she couldn't understand. Trip was a serial cheater, an abuser, a manipulator. How could Virus stay with her? If she were her, she'd pack her bags in the night and leave.

* * *

The doorbell uttered a soft _ding. _No one moved. Silence hung in the air. _Ding_.

"VIRUS!" Trip yelled. Aoba and Virus snapped their heads up simultaneously. Trip was glaring at Virus, hands balled into fists. They looked like they could snap Virus' neck like a twig at a moment's notice. Luckily for everyone, the small woman stood up and ran to the door. Aoba just returned her eyes to the floor and twiddled her thumbs.

Returning as quickly as she could, Virus pulled a plate from the cupboard and shakily placed three slices of cheese and tomato pizza on it. Sliding the box to the side, she silently put the plate on the glass dining table. "At least there's something you _can_ do," Trip snorted.

"On the couch," she ordered.

Virus and Aoba shuffled to the couch closest to the fireplace. The fireplace was at the back of the room. No wood was in it today. Apparently the girl in charge of bringing them firewood was killed in a shootout downtown.

Virus sat down and patted her lap, motioning for Aoba to sit. The blue-haired woman resisted rolling her eyes. Virus loved to pet her when she was sad. She sat down and wrapped her arms around the blonde's shoulders. Just the way the ghastly woman liked it.

Trip sat down on the couch opposite, pizza in hand. "I was going to make this announcement over dinner, but considering it was ruined by you two," she spat, looking between Virus and Aoba as she spoke "I'm going to make it now: Morphine is expanding. Further than Japan. Guess where we're going?"

Aoba and Virus shook their heads.

"AMERICA!" Trip exclaimed proudly, throwing her hands in the air. Aoba frowned. Virus smiled a closed smile.

"That's great Trip," Virus murmured absent-mindedly.

"Yeah, great," Aoba snapped. Virus gently slapped her wrist and gave her a warning glare.

* * *

So that was what she was building up to. Some petty expansion project. What a miserable day it was.

* * *

Aoba looked at Virus after receiving her warning. Virus looked disappointed, as if she was expecting something from Trip and didn't receive it. Strange people.

* * *

The room was silent for a few moments. The moments felt like hours, but no one knew what to say, what to do. Virus ran her fingers through Aoba's hair, tangling it a little.

After a thick silence, Trip spoke.

"That's it from you two? Some weak 'congrats'?" She looked around expectantly. "Get to bed if you have nothing decent to say then." She stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the glass doors with a huff.


End file.
